Snow white
by Celtic tigress
Summary: From snow whites point of view.


Snow white

It's dark, i'm not sure where i am. It's hard to move.I can hear sounds in the distance, like people

talking. I try to cry out but find i can't, there's something stuck in my throat. The effort exhausts me.

I attempt to gather my thoughts, they're jumbled up, out of order. I remember...I remember a man

laughing, throwing me up in the air, i'm squealing with 's a woman too. Oh she's so

beautiful, rich glossy dark hair, pale skin and red lips. Mother. My heart leaps, yes that is my mother

and the man, he's my immediately, the memories come flooding back. My mother is

dead. My father, torn apart by grief, unable to look at me, for i am her image. And then her. His new

wife. Coldly beautiful, was i the only one that saw the evil in those depths, the contempt? I

remember the evening i met her. Father came to my room and explained, haltingly, that he had met

someone, a new mother for me.I screamed at him, telling him i didn't need a new mother, i wanted

the old one back.I was only twelve, on the brink of womanhood but inside still a child.

I sat trembling in my room, waiting for the summons to meet her. When the call came i slowly

made my way downstairs. I held my head up high, like my mother had taught me. They stood

before the fire, heads together, whispering. When they saw me at the door, they sprang apart. She

was tall, with raven black hair, like my own, like my mothers. But there all similarities ended. Her

lips were thin and her eyes were like glacial pools. Striking i suppose, but way out of my mothers

league and mine may think me vain but i can appreciate beauty, i know it when i see it and

can admire it in others as well as myself. It was as if she could read my mind, for her lips got even

thinner and her smile was forced.' Oh what a lovely child' she said. I smiled politely and chanced a

look at my father. He was gazing at her, with the foolish vanity of a man, he looked not at her

character but her appearance. To have had one beautiful wife is fortunate, to have two, well that was

sheer luck. We made small talk for a while but i could tell i was in the way and bade them

i glanced back she was gazing at me and with a smirk, she deliberately edged closer

to my father. She was like a dog marking her territory, i thought. Downheartened, i went to bed, but

sleep did not come quickly or easily.

Time passed, and they married. My new stepmother spent most of her time ignoring me and that

suited me perfectly. I wandered around the castle most days, talking to the maids in the kitchen and

the grooms, even the woodcutter. I was hungry for company, as my father had grown apart from me.

It was if he had changed, deep inside, like he was under a spell. I knew that was silly but it was the

only way to explain lost interest in everything. He would spend days staring into space, only

awakening when she came in. Then he gazed adoringly at her, doing whatever she asked, agreeing

to every request she made of i tried to make conversation he smiled at me like you would

at a familiar stranger, hesitatingly, like he knew me but couldn't quite place me. It hurt to see him

like that so i slowly removed myself from him, visited him rooms less and less. Selfish perhaps but

i think it was also self preservation. I was young then, i couldn't cope with this distant stranger.

So, increasingly alone, the servants became my family. Cook showed me how to bake, delicious

breads with poppy seeds laden on top. Twisted dough dipped in hot fat and rolled in sugar cane.

I followed the maids around chatting and soon i was helping them with their chores.

As the years passed though, i found myself spending more time by myself . I wasn't allowed

downstairs anymore, cook said it 'wouldn't be proper'. Nor was i allowed to talk to the young

gardeners, stableboys, woodcutters, in fact i wasn't allowed near any male! When i asked why i got

the same oblique answer. So my days were lonely and unfufilled, with only books to pass my time. I

had been stopped going to see my father after a strange incident. I had been chatting

away, not expecting a response when suddenly he looked straight at me. I said 'father' hesitatingly,

and then he stared at me again before saying'oh my dear girl, how beautiful you are'. My step

mother, who had been eavesdropping in a corner of the room immediately got up and ordered me

out. Confused, i left but there was hope fluttering in my chest, did he know me? Later that evening i

went to her rooms. They were for her alone, no one else was allowed enter, but i was so overjoyed

that i did not think on this. I burst through the door to find her staring into a mirror, whispering to

herself. It was a beautiful mirror, made of pure shining gold, twists of ivy gilded the outside,

intertwined with rubies. The surface however was different, it seemed cloudy, unreflective.

She shrieked at me to get out, so i gathered up my skirts and ran, forgetting all about father, just

wanting to get away from the hatred i saw etched upon her, her face ugly for once. It was that night

that the woodcutter came. He told me i had to go to the woods with him. I was puzzled but i trusted

him, for he was my childhood friend. We went deep into the woods, me chattering inanely, him

silent, brooding. Suddenly we stopped. I looked around, there was nothing special here. I looked at

my friend and it was then i saw the axe raised high above his head. 'Please no' i screamed, raising

my arm above my head, even though it was scant protection against his sharp heavy axe. A minute

went by, then two. I chanced a look at his face, there were tears streaming down it. He lowered his

weapon. Haltingly he explained about the woman i was supposed to call mother. She was an evil

enchantress. My father was under a spell, and as for me, she wanted me dead because i was more

beautiful than she was. My mind spun, how could someone do this to me? My old friend told me to

run, far away, and never come back. He would cut out the heart of a deer and tell her it was mine.

And with that he turned and walked away. I lay on the ground and sobbed. I cried for my mother,

my poor father and i cried for myself, what would i do now? An hour passed, maybe two, and i

calmed down. The time spent on my own would stand to me, i was resourceful, independant. So i

got up and walked away. Awat from my former cosseted life, away from those who loved me and

those who wished me harm. Deeper into the forest, i struggled to get through the thick trees, with

their branches stuck out as if to get a hold on me. I began to see things, faces on their trunks, and it

seemed like they were getting closer to me. Terrified i closed my eyes and blindly ran, heedless of

the scratches on my arms and my now torn dress. Suddenly it stopped. I opened my eyes to see a

little path on the ground. I followed it, hopeful of finding a village or town. It led me to a quaint

little cottage, laden with wild roses. I knocked, but getting no answer i made my way inside.

Everything was so small. In the kitchen hung seven mugs, and there were seven plates. The next

room had a long table with seven chairs. And when i ventured upstairs i found seven beds. In the

distance i heard singing, something about a ho? I looked around wildly for somewhere to hide but

just then the door opened. I don't know who was more surprised, me or them. A babble of voices

threw questions at me, who was i, where did i come from, did i steal their diamonds? One of them,

the man who i secretly thought of later as their leader, Doc, calmed them down and let me explain

everything. After some thought, he proposed this, i could stay with them and do their cooking and

cleaning and they would keep me safe. I had become a good judge of character, of faces really, after

spending so long looking at my father for any expression at all, and at her, seeing the signs of anger

and these men were good men, i could tell. So i stayed. I had been alone for so long

that i revelled in the company. I scrubbed and cooked and every night we would stay up and talk,

they would tell me such funny stories. But this, as with all good things, came to an end one

summers day. An old woman called to the house selling apples. My new friends had warned me

against trusting anyone who came around , but those apples were magnificent. Perfectly round and

the colour of rubies, gleaming in the sun. I had to have a bite. And thats all i remember up to now.

Wait,something is happening, there is sunlight warm on my arms, the voices are becoming clearer.

There is a gentle pressure on my lips, soft yet firm. It's a man, although i've never been kissed

before,not like this, i can feel the tickle of a beard on my chin. I can feel myself awakening,

whatever is caught in my throat is dissolving. I must find the owner of those lips. I felt my future in

them. I open my eyes.


End file.
